Chapter I

“It is abominable hypocrisy for you to talk so, Susan; you don’t care any more about the missionaries than you do about the fifth wheel of a coach,” exclaimed Louise Percy, the village schoolmistress, to her friend, Susan Maylie, at whose father’s house she boarded.

“Why, Louise, how rude you are! You wouldn’t like it if I should talk so about you,” replied Susan, an angry flush gathering upon her cheek.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t; but if it were true, I don’t know that I could blame you for it.”

“It is not true, Louise.”

“Why, it is only two months since you refused to put any thing into the contribution box for the missions. You said you thought the missionaries were a set of lazy vagabonds, who had a good deal rather preach than work for a living. Now, since the new minister has come, all of a sudden you are a strenuous friend of missions and missionaries.”

“Can’t a body change her opinions, when they are found to be wrong?” replied Susan, petulantly.

“Certainly you can; but is your opinion really changed?”

“How strange you talk, Louise!”

“May be I do; truth is stranger than fiction.”

“You must confess that our new minister’s eloquence has been quite enough to convince any reasonable person that the propagation of the gospel among the heathen is a holy and beautiful work.”

“Undoubtedly, it is a good work; and if you really feel called upon to labor so earnestly in the cause, I am sure I should be the last one to reprove you for it.”

“You don’t believe I am sincere, then?”

“I think you are very fond of the new minister. If an old man, with a wife and half a dozen children, had preached those missionary sermons, I hardly believe you would have felt so much interest in the work.”

“Why, Louise, you astonish me! I really believe you hate the missionaries.”

“On the contrary, I have the highest respect for them. I have always contributed my mite to sustain them. I think I was quite as strongly attached to the cause before this young and handsome Mr. Rogers made his appearance among us, as I am now;” and Louise laughed merrily.

“He is handsome, isn’t he,” said Susan, catching the playful spirit of her companion and confidant.

“I grant that with the greatest pleasure: but if you expect to catch him, you had better moderate your missionary ardor, and act yourself.”

“Nay, Louise, I really feel an interest in the cause;” and Susan looked as sober as though she had been a missionary herself, just on the point of starting for the interior of Africa.

Louise laughed merrily again, as she looked doubtfully into the face of her friend.

A knock at the door started them from the revery into which both had fallen.

“Mr. Rogers, as I live!” exclaimed Louise, catching a glance at the new minister as he stood on the door stone.

“Pray, don’t be rude, Louise,” said Susan, as she adjusted her dress before the glass.

“Be rude! of course not; but I shall say just what I think.”

“Don’t Louise. Be a friend of missions, for my sake.”

Susan opened the door, and Mr. Rogers entered the house.

“I have called, Miss Maylie, to propose a plan for a tea party in aid of the missions,” said he, after the common place introductories had been disposed of. “I look to you, who have been first and foremost in this good cause, for sympathy and coöperation.”

“I shall be very glad, indeed, to do all I can to forward the good work,” said Susan, demurely, “and so will Miss Percy.”

“You must excuse me; my time is so much occupied that I do not think I shall be able to render any essential aid,” interposed Louise, scarcely able to restrain a laugh at the prompt tender Susan had made of her services.

“Perhaps you are not interested in the missions,” suggested Mr. Rogers.

“To some extent, I am, sir.”

“I trust, then, we shall be able to enlist your sympathies. Certainly the heathen, perishing in their sins, demand a noble effort on the part of the Christian world.”

“I do not question the lofty character of the missionary enterprise, but I do think charity ought to begin at home.”

“Why, Louise, how strange you talk!” exclaimed Susan.

“True, Miss Percy, but it ought not to end there. I see you favor the home missions.”

“I do. I favor a mission nearer home than any society has been formed to advance, in our village at least—the mission to the poor and destitute.”

“The gospel is preached for all,” said the minister.

“For all, but not to all. There is poor Mrs. Weston, who cannot afford to buy clothes to send her children to meeting.”

“Indeed!” ejaculated the minister.

“Her husband is a poor, miserable drunkard,” added Susan. “You don’t think her a worthier object of charity than the poor, suffering, dying heathen, who are perishing in their ignorance and sin?”

“Indeed, I do!” returned Louise.

“Her case ought to be attended to immediately,” said Mr. Rogers.

“She ought to go to the poorhouse; the overseers offered to take her,” continued Susan.

“The poorhouse! Mrs. Weston has seen better days, and, I doubt not, would rather die than be subjected to such a bitter humiliation.”

“Her own fault, then; if she won’t let the town help her, what more can be done?”

“She went to Deacon Hapgood, who owns the hovel in which she lives, to get him to take off ten dollars a year from her rent. But the Deacon didn’t see how he could afford it, and the poor woman left him, to continue alone her struggle with the demon of poverty as best she might. Yet the Deacon can afford to give a hundred dollars a year to the missions, and says he never feels the sacrifice.”

“I will see Deacon Hapgood,” said the minister, musingly.

“I hope you will teach him that ‘charity begins at home.’”

“The hungry can be fed, the naked clothed, the houseless sheltered, and still there will be means left to carry on the missions. We are commanded to ‘preach the gospel to all nations.’”

“And reminded that the poor are always with us. There is Farmer Jones: he can’t afford to buy a spelling book for his daughter, but he gives large sums of money to the missionary society.”

Mr. Rogers, who was an earnest seeker after truth, and who nobly endeavored to do his duty, began to feel that there was a great deal of practical wisdom in the remarks of the schoolmistress.

After a little more conversation, in relation to the proposed tea party, he took his leave.